


The Long Way Home

by thehorrorinsymmetry



Series: Complimenting Parts [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Kiss, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Trans Poe, finn's a doctor poe's a pilot, kind of, they get together for real this time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-28 20:42:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14457360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehorrorinsymmetry/pseuds/thehorrorinsymmetry
Summary: It's been a long time since Poe had someone to come home to.





	The Long Way Home

**Author's Note:**

> this is an immediate sequel to the first part of [this fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11642280/chapters/26187684) so this would probably make a lot more sense if you've read that one (the other fics probably add a bit of context but i don't think it's necessary to read them before this one)

They don’t talk about the kiss.

He knows even before he drops Finn off that he can’t be the one to bring it up. The thing - the unspoken, endemic _thing_ \- between them pushes at his ribs, leaving less and less space for him to breathe, but last night wasn’t about that. It wasn’t about them.

He’s going to follow Finn’s lead. If Finn wants to pretend it’s never happened, then it never happened - when Finn’s around, anyway. Despite his attempts, the moment plays in his mind through the rest of the night, the first thing he recalls when he wakes up, a broken record that skips every time he feels the dry press of Finn’s lips on his.

He texts Finn the same he would any day and makes his usual breakfast (two fried eggs, toast just this side of burnt, and as much coffee as he can fit in one mug), eating with the tv on for background noise. It doesn’t keep the emptiness of the small apartment from creeping up on him.

His phone rings as he’s washing the dishes, the shrill chime cutting sharp into the quiet. The screen lights up with the image of Finn with a fake-serious look on his face, dressed up in Poe’s pilot uniform from Halloween. He grins as he picks the phone up. “Hey,”

“Hey, you.” Even with the digital edge to Finn’s voice it sends a slow warmth rolling through him. “What are you doing today?”

“Oh, just the usual. Thinking about knocking out a quick marathon, maybe go wakeboarding if I’m feeling saucy.”

Finn laughs. “You’re always so productive on your days off, you really have to teach me your secret one of these days.”

He hums, glancing down at the pyjamas he still hasn’t changed out of.

“Do you think you could squeeze dinner in tonight?”

“For you?” He bites his lip, breathing in against the fluttering within his chest. “I could probably move some things around, yeah.”

“We can always do it another time, I wouldn’t want you to have to cancel a marathon for me.”

“Oh, I can always run on tomorrow, it’s not like you have to prepare for those things, right?” He glances at his watch, blinking at the two hands until his mind stops racing with the thoughts of _dinner_. “You’re off at midnight?”

“Mhm, barring a major emergency, yeah.”

“Just text me if something comes up, we can reschedule if -”

“And make you miss your marathon for nothing?” Finn scoffs. “It should be okay. I can call in a favour with Paige if I need to.”

He clears his throat and does not think about the meaning of that statement. “Finn, it’s dinner. Just text me, yeah?”

“I will text you at midnight when I leave work, yes. I’m gonna drive to work tonight so I can pick you up after.”

“Where are we going? I need to know how to dress up.”

“You can just wear whatever spandex getup you have for running.”

He chokes on his breath, grabbing at the counter to keep steady.

“I don’t have a particular place in mind,” Finn’s smile is obvious in his tone, pulling at him, blissfully ignorant of how it strengthens the thing in his chest. “Whatever you feel like is good.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” He swallows. “Restaurants don’t normally have a dress code against spandex, right?”

“Are you kidding? Their business will be booming, they’re gonna beg you to stay.”

He laughs. “Very funny.”

“Who said I was joking?” Finn pauses, something brushing over the phone’s mic. “Hey, I have to go. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Yeah, can’t wait. Have a good day at work.”

Finn sighs, a heavy exhale that somehow carries over the connection to make him shiver. “I’ll try. Don’t you work too hard, either.”

“I’ll do my best.”

He disconnects the call, watching as the image of Finn changes back to rolling clouds over an indistinguishable landscape.

 

—

 

Time slows to a stagnant crawl without something to keep him occupied. To delay the inevitable degradation of his state of mind he forces himself to leave his apartment just after six, walking without a particular destination in mind.

He passes by a dog a few minutes into his journey - a Jack Russell, nothing like Lily, that makes his heart ache all the same. The wind pushes at him, frigid, leaving him shivering in his jacket, shoving his hands into the pockets and pressing his chin down against the collar. The memory of Finn’s body on his just leaves him colder.

This isn’t working.

He ducks into a store and kills half an hour looking at clothes, telling himself how ridiculous it would be to buy a new outfit for tonight.

A salesperson catches him and pulls him into a conversation, her warm smile and attentive listening catching him unprepared. He blinks and finds himself in a dressing room with an armful of clothing, staring at a soft blue shirt that would apparently bring out his eyes.

He pulls the blue shirt on over his t-shirt, watching his own movements in the mirror. The light colour does bring out his eyes, although it’s just form-fitting enough to show off the softness around his middle. He presses a hand against it and wonders if there was always this much of it.

His phone pulls him from his thoughts, vibrating on the bench. He picks it up and smooths the shirt over his abdomen. “Leia, hey.”

“Poe,” Leia breathes, weariness filling the single syllable of his name. “Are you in the city?”

Oh no. “Yeah, what’s up?”

“Wexley is ill. He’s flying in from New York right now and he’s meant to fly the last leg to Los Angeles, but he’s vomited twice since takeoff.”

“What happened to the standby?”

“Already on another flight. Could you be at the airport in ninety minutes?”

He drops onto the bench and covers his face with his hands, trying to think of a more valid reason to not go into work than _Finn asked me to have dinner and by the way he kissed me yesterday_. “Have you checked with anyone else?”

“I have, yes. For some reason I’m having difficulty finding someone willing to work on a Friday night.”

He squeezes his eyes shut. “Can you get me back here tomorrow?”

“Do you have plans?”

“No - yes. Kind of?” He rubs his cheek. “Can I get back tomorrow?”

“Absolutely, Poe. I’ll have you on the first flight back.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll be there.”

They take a minute to iron out the details before Leia hangs up. He runs a hand through his hair and tries to recall if he’d done anything recently to deserve this sort of karmic retribution.

He calls Finn, hoping he’ll somehow catch him on a break. The rings give way to Finn’s professional voice asking him to leave a message, the cool, detached tone a far cry from what he’d been hoping for. “Hey, buddy, it’s me. I’m really sorry but I got called in to work - one of the pilots is sick and I have to fly to LA, so I can’t make it to dinner tonight. I’m sorry. But I’ll be back tomorrow, first thing, so if you want we can do something then? You can come over I’ll cook something, whatever you want. Sorry. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He buys the shirt.

 

\--

 

The flight goes smoothly, only delayed by a few minutes when they have to reroute around a storm.

He arrives to a drizzling rain, two texts from Finn ( _that’s okay_ and _let me know how the flight goes_ ), and a spacious and very empty hotel room. It’s already near one back home, Finn would have already picked him up by now. They’d be having dinner somewhere, probably sharing their food, in their own bubble in whatever restaurant they ended up in.

He collapses onto the bed and starfishes, spreading his limbs out as far as they’ll let him without running into anything on the endless emptiness of the crisp, untouched bed. Pulling his tie open, he takes a moment to imagine getting to work in what is essentially pyjamas, contemplating whether Finn would notice if he borrowed a pair of scrubs again.

Hm. Finn looks good in his pale blue scrubs, soft, a tide that Poe will forever be caught in, that he can’t imagine fighting. He holds his phone up and nearly drops it on his face as he opens the contacts, pulling Finn’s photo up to full screen for a moment before he presses the call button.

It rings twice before the click of a connection forged over the two thousand miles between them. “Hey,”

“Hey,” He bites his lip, shutting his eyes to focus on Finn’s voice. “I’m sorry about today.”

“It’s okay, Poe. How was the flight?”

“It was fine. Smooth.”

Finn breathes a laugh, brushing air loud over the mic. “You sound so excited about being in LA.”

“I’ve spent enough nights alone in a hotel room for one lifetime by now. How was your day?”

“It was good. I saw the cutest little baby today, she was wearing this onesie with a unicorn on it.” Finn sighs. He can picture Finn in his mind, stretched out next to him on the bed, rubbing a hand over his hair as he talks about the girl. “She had the sweetest laugh, Poe.”

He hums, imagining Finn smiling, his face lighting up, softer but no less powerful than the sun itself. It would ease the heaviness, lessen the ever-present exhaustion that weighs on his shoulders, the same beast that had Finn pinned the night before now whimpering at his smile, the crow’s feet that always reveal themselves with his tired smile. Finn would murmur the words, rolling onto his side to face Poe, that much closer. “Sorry, what?”

“You said you’re coming back tomorrow? The weather isn’t going to be a problem?”

“Yeah, gonna get up at an ungodly hour so I’ll be on the first flight back. Should be there before you’re even up, it’ll be like I was never gone. What weather? There’s no weather. It’ll be smooth sailing.”

“The big storm? The one they’ve been saying will drop a foot overnight? That’s supposed to hit like three states? You’re a pilot, aren’t you supposed to stay on top of this stuff?”

“Oh, yeah.” He struggles to remember what the latest forecasts are calling for when his world has shrunk to Finn’s voice in his ear. “Uh, it’s not hitting us, right? It’s staying low, it’s not gonna affect my flight path.”

“You’re sure?”

“Mhm, I’ll be back.”

“Okay, good.” Finn breathes the word good as if he can’t keep it in, like he’s releasing something from deep within his chest that traverses the distance between them to settle in his own. “I have an early shift tomorrow so you could come over here after, if you want? You don’t have to worry about making anything, we can just order in and maybe knock through a few episodes of parks.”

“That sounds good. You should go to bed though, get some rest.”

Finn hums. “I guess. Let me know when you get back, okay?”

“Yeah, course. Goodnight.”

“Night, Poe.”

The call disconnects with a soft click that leaves him alone once again. He opens his eyes to a quiet hotel room, still in his uniform, the bed empty next to him.

 

\--

 

He does not make it back to Chicago before Finn is up.

In the mere handful of hours he was asleep the storm intensified, shifting its trajectory north. It’s bound to hit Chicago.

He discovers this when he reaches the airport, bright and shiny and running on fumes at five o’clock sharp and immediately comes face first with a long list of delays. The storm vivisects the nation, stretching up nearly into Canada, leaving mountains of ice and snow in its wake. Nobody is going to fly into it and it’s too late to fly around it, even if the nearest airports weren’t significantly delayed and the rerouting wasn’t affecting everyone, even if he could get on a plane and take off in the next half hour, he probably still wouldn’t reach Chicago in time. He’s grounded.

He stays at the airport, checking the radars every other minute, watching the endless turning of the hands of his watch. Noon comes and goes with no change. He buys an overpriced figurine for Finn, a little pug decked out in old-timey pilot gear, and manages a short nap in the lounge.

Finn texts him in the early afternoon. _Are you still in LA? Are you safe?_

He stares at the text for a long time. Finn wouldn’t be off yet so he must be on a break, which means he’s been thinking about Poe. He’s been worried about Poe.

This is not the first time Poe’s been stranded. His job involves traversing around the globe, he’s always been and will always be at the mercy of mother nature’s whims. He’s been stuck in foreign cities, he’s been caught in storms at the tail end of a two week trip, he’s used to sleeping in airports. This shouldn’t be any different. Hell, he just got back from a ten day trip.

He replies to Finn to let him know he’s okay and not to expect him tonight. His phone chirps a moment after he’d put it down, lighting up with a new text.

_Be safe. Miss you_

He mouths the words, reading them over and over. Finn misses him. It’s been twenty hours since he left and Finn misses him. Finn misses him and is worried about him and wants to know what’s happening with his trip.

The storm hits Chicago that evening. The radar is vibrant, an abstract painting that taunts him, the slow crawl of the system a personal affront. Finn sends him pictures of the snow, one of which has him in it, absolutely radiant even half hidden by the hood of his jacket, snowflakes on his shoulders.

He does not sleep well that night. The storm is still lingering in Chicago when he gets up but the path is being cleared - slowly, incrementally, with the precision of several china shops trying to coordinate, each occupied with its own bull. The crowd is growing in size and restlessness, the frustration only growing now that some have been able to escape.

He hates LA. Finally, after a full day in the overcrowded airport he manages to get a spot on a flight to Denver. He’s in the jump seat, the bit of regular human contact a much-needed decompression. They arrive to a blanket of white like something off of a postcard, a serene beauty that itches under his skin.

Denver isn’t any different from LAX - worse if anything, closer to the chaos - but he’s that much closer to home. He sends a quick text to Finn and picks up a magnet from the terminal before he catches a break and scrambles onto a cargo flight to Minneapolis.

He decides on that flight that he’s going to make it home tonight.

He calls Leia before he’s off the plane and puts himself on every standby list, getting in with the pilots as much as he can with stubble that’s almost a full beard and the same shirt he’s been wearing for a day and a half.

One hour becomes two with every flight delayed as everyone fights to get back to regular service. He watches the sunset, the aluminum aircraft panels gleaming like gems, hues of pinks and oranges filling the sky, fading to darkness.

One by one, planes depart. O’Hare gets runways in operation one at a time, running at half capacity by evening. Two planes head to Chicago with a full load, neither carrying him. He toys with the idea of renting a damn bushplane himself and flying himself home, surprising Finn on his doorstep with some airport trinkets and a bouquet he picked up on the drive to Finn’s apartment.

A flight attendant in teal gives him the golden ticket, a guardian angel with a halo of fluorescent light. He touches down in Chicago just after midnight, the skid of the tires on 22L music to his ears.

The airport is packed, the arrivals gate full of happy reunions that ease the knot in his chest even as he tries to rush past them. He just needs to get home.

He can almost feel it, the firm press of his mattress as he lays face down and passes out for a solid twelve hours. He pulls his phone out to let Finn know he’s back, almost tripping over himself when he glances at a man that looks exactly like Finn. He’s the spitting image of the man, the same soft face and those handsome eyes that make his knees weak and -

Wait.

The man - Finn, it’s Finn - meets his gaze and smiles, lifting a hand in the air.

He runs. He doesn’t stop until Finn is in his arms.

Finn wraps his arms around his waist, his hands firm on Poe’s back. He presses his face against Finn’s neck and takes a deep breath to try to settle everything down. “What are you doing here?”

“I missed you.” Finn slides a hand up his back. “And I figured you’d be pretty tired. Be a shame for you to finally get back just to crash on your drive home.”

“Missed you too.” He leans back as much as he can without moving his arms. Finn holds onto him, keeps him steady. “But my car -“

“I have tomorrow off, I can drive you back here to pick it up.”

He stares at Finn. For a moment he wonders if he’s still back in Minnesota, if he’s passed out in a chair and dreaming this. He digs his thumbnail into his hand behind Finn’s neck and hopes the spark of pain is enough to confirm the reality of this moment. “Thank you.”

“C’mon,” Finn nudges his temple before pulling away, taking the handle of Poe’s suitcase. He keeps a hand on Poe’s back. “Did you have anything checked?”

He shakes his head, leaning into Finn’s touch.

They’re quiet on the walk to Finn’s car. He collapses into the passenger seat and contemplates taking a nap during the drive, but settles on watching Finn drive.

He’s good at driving. Focused, like he probably is with his patients. Because he’s a good doctor. A _great_ doctor. His hands are firm on the wheel, comfortable, hands that heal, the same hands that were on his back a few minutes ago. The same hands that were on his sides when they kissed.

Finn glances at him. “What’s going on in that big brain of yours?”

“You’re a good doctor.”

Finn drags his lips between his teeth, the corner of his mouth tilting up, all too appealing. “You’ve never been my patient.”

“I can tell. You have doctor hands.”

Finn laughs. “It’s a good thing I’m a doctor then, huh?”

He nods, watching the way Finn’s eyelashes move as he looks in the rearview mirror. “You kissed me.”

Finn nods. “I did.”

Okay. He can’t screw this part up, he has to think this through. “Can we talk about this tomorrow? After like - eight hours of sleep. At least.”

“Yeah, we can do that.” Finn puts the car in park and reaches over, squeezing his arm. “Get a good sleep, okay?”

“We’re here?” He spins, glancing over his shoulder at the entrance to his apartment building. The windows to his apartment are dark, the space as empty as he’d left it days ago. “Do you want to stay here?”

“What?”

He turns back to Finn. “Um, it’s late and you must be tired too and I could make you breakfast in the morning, to thank you for picking me up? I can’t do that right now because I’m really tired, but I also got you a couple things too and you said you have tomorrow off and I miss-”

“Okay.”

“-ed you.” He blinks. “You’ll stay?”

“Yeah,” Finn smiles. “I’ll stay.”

 

\--

 

Finn offers to sleep on the couch when they get into the apartment, which is patently ridiculous. He tells Finn as much as he gets him some pjs and takes a quick shower to get the worst of the airport staleness off of him. Finn’s already in bed when he gets back, leaning against the headboard, tucked under the blanket. He puts whatever he’d been reading down and holds the comforter up for Poe. “Happy to be home?”

“Mhm,” He rolls onto his side and watches Finn settle next to him. “I really am.”

Finn curls the blanket up under his chin, pulling it taut between them. “I am too.”

“Hope you’re not a blanket hog, though.”

“Absolutely not.” Finn nudges his toes against Poe’s shin. “This is my fair share, thank you.”

“M’kay,” He presses his face into the pillow and tries to find the energy to sound anything other than completely infatuated. “But if I wake up all cold you’re in big trouble.”

“That’s big talk for someone that can’t keep his eyes open.” Finn laughs. “Snoring’s okay, though?”

He hums. “I changed my phone plan.”

“What?”

“I changed my plan after I met you. Added a bunch of minutes and stuff so we could talk more.”

Finn smiles. “I did too.”

He shifts closer to Finn. “Goodnight, Finn.”

 

\--

 

He wakes up to a dark room and a full bladder.

His leg is asleep, caught beneath something. He sighs, stretching, blinking in the low light. The sun is just beginning to rise, the barest light reflected in the pristine snow. It must be early. He palms at his eyes and looks over toward his alarm clock, his gaze landing on the top of a head.

Oh.

Last night comes flying back - Finn surprising him at the airport, him bringing up the kiss the exact way he told himself he wouldn’t, Finn spending the night with him. Finn sleeping in his bed - in his clothes.

Finn, the doctor that went on a mission for cookies in the middle of the night and offered to share them with a stranger. Finn, the man with the endlessly deep heart and a smile to match. Finn, the man he’s completely and utterly in love with, who he thinks might love him back.

He takes a moment to commit this to memory - the heavy warmth of Finn’s body on his, the soft curve of his cheek from this angle - before he begins to get up. Moving slow, he shifts his leg away, then his arm, freezing when Finn takes a deep breath.

The moment stretches out. He begins to relax but then Finn stirs, his arm sliding up Poe’s chest as he stretches. Finn lifts his head, blinking at him.

“Go back to sleep,” He squeezes Finn’s shoulder, his fingertips grazing bare skin. “I’ll be right back.”

He drags himself out of bed, watching Finn curl back into the covers before he leaves.

He tiptoes back into the bedroom and groans when the clock tells him it’s just after five. Finn looks up at him, his smile half-hidden by the blanket.

“I thought you were going back to sleep.”

Finn remains in the centre of the mattress as Poe climbs back into bed. “Thought about it.”

He raises an eyebrow, wide awake now with their knees knocking together. “And?”

“And I missed you too.”

He takes Finn’s hand, rubbing his thumb over his palm. “You kissed me.”

Finn nods.

“Why?”

Finn is quiet for a long moment, watching him, fingers grazing over Poe’s. “Because I wanted to kiss you.”

He tightens his grip. “Do you still want to?”

Finn’s gaze drops to his mouth, flickering back up to meet his. “Always.”

He kisses Finn.

Finn leans into him, pressing close, dizzying for all its slowness. He kisses the corner of Finn’s mouth, his chin. Finn cups his jaw. “Poe?”

He hums.

“Go back to sleep.”

He kisses Finn again, too high, a hint of stubble scratching at his lip. “Okay.”

 

\--

 

They get up at nine. He wakes up to Finn’s thumb tracing his collarbone and kisses him because he can, because he’s already decided he loves kissing Finn, stale breath and all. He could spend the rest of his life here, wrapped around Finn, but he made a promise that he fully intends to fill.

He leaves Finn in bed, a quiet euphoria humming through his veins as he gets the coffee brewing. He scours the kitchen for something half decent with the sparse collection of ingredients on hand. Something that can follow up waking up and kissing the man he loves.

This is their first day together, the opening lines of a new chapter of their lives, something he’ll always remember. He wants to have every breakfast with Finn - an absolutely ludicrous concept just considering one of their careers, let alone both - but this is their _first_.

For a moment he toys with the idea of running out so he can get groceries and make the same meal they had when they met but he settles for making french toast, pulling the oreos from the back of the cabinet for a special treat.

It’s been ages since he’s made this - long enough that he has to check his dad’s old recipe book to make sure he gets the mix right. The countertop disappears beneath a pile of dishes and ingredients but it smells amazing as he fries up the first two slices, the saccharine sweetness reflecting his mood. He preps two plates with some fruit and an oreo, pulling two mugs from the cupboard.

The floorboards creak behind him, pulling his focus from the stove. “I thought we agreed this was going to be a breakfast in bed kind of deal.”

Finn wraps his arms around Poe’s waist, hooking his chin on his shoulder. “Rather be here.”

He leans into Finn’s touch and shuts his eyes, jolting when the pan begins to crackle. “Oh, no, stop-”

“What?” Finn steps back when he pats at his hands and pushes him away. “Stop what?”

“Go sit down.” He points towards the table, pulling the toast out of the pan. “I can’t make you the best breakfast ever if you’re distracting me like that.”

“I’m distracting?”

He looks over at Finn, the joke on the tip of his tongue melting away with Finn’s soft smile. “Always.”

Finn rests his chin in his palm, a world of softness in his gaze.

He puts one of the mugs in front of Finn and ducks down to kiss his cheek, stepping back before Finn can react. “Did you have any plans for today?”

“We need to go pick up your car at some point and I’ve got some journals I should catch up on at some point, but that’s the extent of it. You have something in mind?”

He considers letting the toast burn and climbing onto Finn’s lap. He flips the toast. “We could watch some parks, see where the day goes.”

“That sounds perfect.”

He shuts the stove off, moving the plates to the table. They take their time with breakfast, taking bites between stories and touches and smiles. The edge of exhaustion is still there under his skin, his muscles stiff after so much time confined in airports, but as they bite into their cookies he knows that Finn got it right.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!
> 
> started out as a prompt fill but uhhh i've missed this universe a lot and it got long fljskd hope u enjoyed
> 
> big special thank u to angel for coming up with this whole idea


End file.
